The music pumped, lights twinkled like stars from the sky, and an elaborate mansion glowed in gold as the entrance. She was not supposed to be there—the expected guest list—well, she was all there—violet, a red, body-hugging number, hugging all of her curvy assets. The tightness of the dress mirrored the pulled-back shiny hair which glistened to accentuate high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, set in a sassy inclination to boot. The cobblestone pathway muffled the click, click, click of her entrance, one stride at a time, but she made it known. People looked—people stopped. Heads turned. They could not help but stare; she was so transfixed that she could not be missed. The beauty generated a spell that encompassed her, yet it was a fatal one—she was a lion among sheep. Violet burst into the mansion and slammed the door behind her. She assessed the scene at once. The room reeked of high society; men in pressed suits, women dripping with diamonds. All the doors were locked—a stocky bodyguard stood sentry at every entrance—and with Violet's knowing stare at all of them, she grinned. She didn't even flinch. She swooped in on one of the male guests like a goddess in costume or a marionette herself. Her hand fell on his shoulder, and I felt the wave travel through him. He spun to her, mouth agape, as her finger traced the underside of his chin to turn his head in her direction. Seconds later, she had him; she had taken him for whatever she wanted. Those eyes—so ghostly, so bright and pink—tempted him to look away. He was a puppet, and all at once, his tongue unspooled for her as if attached to a string. Violet's smile grew. She glided through the crowd like a feline, her hands slipping into the spaces between men and women, down forearms, along shoulders. Every thrust, every pulse, every turn into her mesmerizing gaze tethered them. They were all hers. Well, almost all of them. The transition from excitement to obsession was instantaneous—except for one. "Eliminate the guards for me, dears," she whispered. It was a soft sound yet strong enough to resonate throughout the ballroom. It was utter madness. The "pets" obeyed every order—there was no order—but they plowed through the guards—at the most ridiculous speed—with ridiculous anger. Violet did not move as the scene unfolded before her. The once proud smirk on her face faded to one of unfiltered glee; she was in her element, enjoying every second like the villain empress she was.
She smirked as the guards were distracted, making her way up the grand staircase. The air grew quieter with each step as the chaos below faded into muffled cries and shouts. Her heels barely made a sound now, her movements deliberate and precise. Violet reached the final floor, her sharp eyes scanning the endless corridor. The dim lighting cast long shadows, and at the far end, two guards stood like statues, flanking a solitary door.
With a blink of an eye, she was upon them. In one fluid motion, Violet swept past, slicing their throats with a blade so sharp it whispered through the air. Their eyes widened in shock as they slumped forward, but she caught them before their bodies hit the ground, gently lowering them to the floor. No sound escaped, no alarm raised. She wiped her blade on one of their jackets, her smirk returning as she turned to the door.
She pushed down on the ornate handle, the door creaking slightly as it swung inward. The room was dimly lit, luxurious but cluttered, with an unmade bed dominating the center. Her sharp senses caught the faint creak of another door. She turned to see a fat, large man emerging from the adjoining bathroom, steam billowing out behind him. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and a towel was loosely wrapped around his ample waist.
He smirked when he saw her, his beady eyes lighting up with lust. "I didn't expect a beauty like this to entertain me tonight," he said, his voice dripping with sleaze.
Violet tilted her head, her lips curling into a dangerous smile as she sauntered toward him. Her movements were slow and deliberate, each step exuding confidence. "Well," she murmured, her voice soft and teasing, "I suppose you expected wrong." She placed her hands on his shoulders, letting her fingers trail lightly across his skin as she circled him, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
The man chuckled, completely oblivious to the danger. "Oh, I don't mind surprises like this," he started, but his words were cut short by a sharp, sickening crack. Violet's leg shot out, her heel slamming into his knee with brutal precision. The man howled in pain as he crumpled to the ground, clutching his shattered knee.
"You fucking bitch!" he spat, his face twisted in agony. "How dare you! I'll—"
His words ended abruptly as Violet raised her heel and brought it down with force, crushing his skull. The sickening crunch echoed through the room as blood pooled beneath her. She straightened, brushing off her dress as if nothing had happened.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a sleek phone and dialed a number. "Mission over, Gabriel," she said coolly, her voice devoid of emotion.
Far away, atop a tall building, a man stood silhouetted against the night sky. His long coat billowed in the wind as he adjusted his glasses and took a drag from his cigarette. The faint glow of the city lights reflected off the lenses. "I'll inform Theo," he said, his voice calm and indifferent. He exhaled a plume of smoke, flicking the cigarette away. "Get back for now. Or don't. Do whatever. I don't really care." With that, he hung up, leaving Violet in silence once more.
She smirked at the phone, slipping it back into her pocket. Glancing down at the lifeless man, she stepped over his body, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked toward the window. The night was far from over.